


If I had come back five years earlier

by bedlinens



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedlinens/pseuds/bedlinens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was thinking about Jax’s remark, when he said he wished Tara had come back five years earlier, or five years later, and it got my muse working…. Please do leave a review if you feel so inclined!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave concrit or say if you want more. I am terrified of writing something the fandom is not interested in

Tara felt like she was dreaming, or more accurately, having a nightmare. She was back in Charming. She was back in fucking Charming. She needed a drink.

She took solace in the fact that she was only back for a short amount of time, and she hoped she wouldn't run into too many familiar faces. There was one sun kissed face in particular she didn't want to see, or so she kept on telling herself...

They were there on a case, and that was it. Though how the hell had she made her way from Chicago Presbyterian to St Thomas, one could wonder. She knew of course, knew why and what for, but sometimes she found herself wondering if she had dreamt it all. Her mentor, Dr. Philips, had been called for a favor, to operate on a toddler, on the other side of the country. Apparently, to finance medicine school, Philips had been a mob doctor for the Mayans in his native Arizona, and when he had been set free from his obligations, he had known he would never really be free. And indeed... The Mayans had come to him, asking (that was a euphemism, considering the amount of threat involved) him to operate on the son of a Charming Mayan.

"I guess we'll be visiting your old friends!" Philips had said when he had told her the news and how it had come to be, but she had felt like the world was crumbling down around her. After so much running, and hiding, and just distancing herself from this part of California, there she was. As Philips' star resident, she couldn't ask him to do without her, nor did she want to: she was a professional and she didn't even want Philips to think for a second that she would miss on a surgery just to spare some possibly painful memories. She had just moved on from being an intern to being a resident, and a fellow, and nothing would stand in her way until she got where she wanted to go, until she finally became the pediatric surgeon she had always known she would be.

She had cancelled her date with Joshua Kohn, a guy she had met a short time before. This was something else she ought to do some thinking about should she ever have the time. On paper, Joshua was eve more than a nice guy, and he had been gentle in his courting, waiting for her to be ready to go out with him, and when she had cancelled on him, while he had taken it gracefully, saying he understood she was going back to a place where she would need to only think about herself and her work, she had felt, in a really weird and incomprehensible way, like she was dodging a bullet. She hadn't had to say the words that would have made it clear that there would be no other dates, no rain check, and she was thankful for it.

Maybe she would reach out again when she would be back in Chicago, she thought, though she wasn't sure. She felt like she couldn't really trust any of the many things she was feeling lately. This bomb, forcing her to return to Charming, had detonated in her life and she felt like everything was askew, and she was aloof, too, like she wasn't her normal self, like she wasn't even sure her normal self was that woman she was the rest of the time.

Tara caught a stare coming from a window on the road. She couldn't blame whoever was watching her. She was sitting in her rental, had been for a long time, wondering what to do, frankly. She supposed she could go to her father's, but she had so many objections to that, she couldn't list them all, even to herself. Another solution would have been to go to a friend's house, she supposed. Only problem was, she didn't have friends in Charming anymore. She wasn't even sure she had ever had friends in Charming period... Sure, she had been on a friendly basis with Donna, but it had been expected of them, dating two guys who were best friends slash brothers. When Tara had left, there had been no phone calls, no keeping in touch. She didn't know if she would have wanted to, and she had no regrets there. However, it didn't help with her current quandary. Where to go? Where to go?

She supposed if she was avoiding her father, then her only choice was a motel. She made a disgusted face, but turned on the engine, finally leaving the space she had parked in when she had found herself in the actual town of Charming, needing time to deal.

Charming had changed, yet it was always the same, she thought, as she took the familiar streets and saw the familiar sights. Maybe she was a masochist, but she made a detour, and ended up passing in front of her father's house. Her heart felt too tight: the light was on in the living room but nowhere else in the house. She knew what it meant too well: her father was on his way to passing out on the couch in the living room, having probably had already quite a few drinks.

She closed her eyes briefly to blink back tears she didn't want there. You never forgot, she knew that, but when the past slapped you in the face with something you hadn't forgotten, it still made your world tremble.

She kept on driving, and had to stop at a red light. She tried not to think about this neighborhood which had been hers for the first 17 years of her life, or the memories that came with it, the innocent ones, and the painful ones. She wanted none of those. She wasn't there to reminisce, she was there to move on, and do a surgery, period.

As the light turned green, she had been about to get the car moving when she heard the unmistakable sound of several bikes riding together. A look in the rearview mirror told her she was about to be surrounded by Sons and their bikes. She kept her head straight ahead, not looking at them, as she slowly went back to driving ahead, as the bikes passed on either side of her vehicle.

She was not wondering if he was among that crowd, no she was not... She could have sworn she felt someone stare at her, really stare, on her right side, but she was looking ahead, stubbornly, and was waiting for the convoy to pass her by. She went to the one motel she remembered as having a not too terrible reputation. She kicked herself for not having taken up Dr. Philips on his offer to get her a room in the hotel a couple of towns over he was staying at. She had thought it would look weird to him if she accepted, like she didn't want to go back to Charming. She didn't, but he didn't need to know.

She parked in the lot, and went inside. The girl at the counter was young, probably earning some extra money by doing some reception hours, so she didn't seem to know who Tara was, and Tara liked it that way. When she gave her last name, the girl did raise her head and asked:

"Like the Drunk Knwoles?"

Tara smiled blankly, neither confirming nor denying it. The girl gave her the key to her room, and told her about the breakfast hours, though Tara didn't pay any attention. She just grabbed her luggage and made her way to the room.

She closed the door behind her, putting the bolt on, feeling silly doing so, yet unable to stop herself. The room was nothing amazing, but it had a bed and a TV, and clean bathroom, so she supposed she couldn't complain too much about it. Hell, complaining about anything was the last thing on her agenda.

She crashed on the bed, looking at the ceiling, wondering what was next. Sleep was a good guess, she supposed. She was going to St. Thomas in the morning to assist Dr. Philips with the consult he would have with the boy's parents. Tara didn't know their name, and wasn't sure she wanted to know it. If tomorrow she recognized the people in the room, well, there was that. If she didn't, then she would have been right about their names mattering so little. It seemed callous, she knew it, but she was operating on their son and it felt much more important for her to know the boys medical record by heart rather than know things about his parents.

Her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten in a very long time. She had seen a vending machine in the hallway, and grabbed her wallet, thinking some chips should be enough, and maybe some chocolate of any sort. She got out of the room, feeling weird as she undid the bolt, and went to corner where she had spotted the machine. She took a moment. Yes, she supposed she was not really out, as she was in the motel, but it was the first time since she had gotten into the rental that she was outside, in the Charming air. It didn't feel like home, nor did she expect it too, but it was familiar.

She breathed in and out, and told herself it would be alright.

She purchased chips and water, and more chocolate than she should have, before making her way back to her room. The place was empty, yet she felt... Like she was being watched? Or that she was seen? Such a complex feeling. Before him, she had been used to being invisible in Charming and in high school. Then, there had been him, and people had started watching her, and seeing her. She remembered how unsettling it had been. You got used to many things, and when they got disturbed, even if you liked the reason they were being disturbed, it was a revolution in itself.

Back in her room, she dropped her food on the bed, and turned on the TV, while opening a bag of chips. She was starving. She flipped channels, thankful for the stupidity of most programs. She needed random, and mindless things to keep her own mind from other things...

There was a knock on the door, and she jumped, suddenly aware she hadn't put the bolt back on.

Forcing herself to breathe in and out, she straightened her appearance quickly, before going to the door. In all fairness, the number of people who could be on the other side of that door were not that numerous, but when she finally opened the door, she was shocked, beyond surprise.

"Jax." She said.

"Tara," He answered


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: At the end, you will find explications about chronology if it interests you. Thank you for your support guys! IF you have anything to say or ask, my inbox is always open!

She remembered the mistrust, watching him come back from the Anarchy headquarters without her, smelling like booze, and what smelled like really cheap perfume, the kind croweaters used to wear. She remembered him telling her she was being paranoid and he was faithful. She remembered never knowing if she could trust him.

But most of all, beyond the hurt, and the mistrust, and the misery, she remembered the warmth of his embrace. She remembered standing by his side when they buried his father, even though they were barely friends. She remembered riding on his bike, the wind in her hair, her hands around his waist, holding tight even though it was not needed, just because they both loved it. She remembered their first kiss on the first anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death. She remembered feeling safe in his arms when her father was drunk on the couch below. She remembered ... feeling loved.

Thus it made it even more painful when she forced herself not to discard the bad memories. The good memories were important, and it was too tempting to only keep them on her mind when she saw him, but there had been a reason she had thought she could never tell him about her applying to universities out of a certain perimeter. She remembered the last time she had seen him, in the rearview mirror of her uncle's car as he had come to pick her up for her to go to med school, and the look of betrayal in Jax's eyes. She had betrayed him, but so had he when he had made her feel like he was the one saying what was okay or not okay for her to hope to achieve. They had been young, crazy, and in love, in lust, passionate, but they had both messed up and done things they shouldn't have done.

It was painful, but she reminded herself of all of that.

When he moved forward, and hugged her, she hugged back, but never stop thinking about both the good and the bad. It was too easy to just watch that sunny boy and forget about why she had thought she would never return to Charming. His hands on the small of her back made her crow burn.

He let go of her, and looked so awkward, which seemed only fitting, as she was feeling the next thing after awkward.

"I thought I saw you earlier in a rental..." He finally said, playing with his patch on his chest, as if trying to gather his thoughts or find a way to express them.

"That was me. I got surrounded by Sons at a traffic light," she said, stating what they both knew, keeping herself in check otherwise she would have rubbed the tattoo on her back. "I see you got patched in," she said, another painfully obvious statement.

There had been a point in his life when they hadn't known if he would go down that road, after his father had died so gruesomely. Then, Clay, his mother's new suitor (though Tara had always had a feeling there was something deeper there even then) had given him a cheap bike, saying it would be a chick magnet, and Jax had fallen in love with speed, and the freedom he felt when on the back of his Harley. Once, he had compared it to being the captain of a ship, and feeling like a pirate, and she had had no choice but to laugh in his faith for being so cheesy, something he hadn't begrudged her. She had reminded him that women were not allowed on ships and he had pretended to whisper:

"Let's not tell the other pirates that you are allowed on my ship, okay? I already got kicked out of the Boys Scouts, I gotta remain a pirate..."

As she had grown up and become more matured, she finally got what he meant, and how amazing and scary it was to feel like you were truly in control of something. You probably never were, though as a surgeon she had to believe she was a goddess in the OR and nothing went on without her having decided so.

"Yeah, a couple of years ago," he said, putting his leather straight on his shoulder.

She would never say it out loud, for she had hoped he would never become a Son, but the leather suited him. The facial hair wasn't too bad either. She decided to spare him humiliation and not comment on the fact that he had finally grown a goatee. When she had left when he was 19, he had been struggling to get even the slightest fuzz on his cheeks. He had hated it, and she had told him so many times she didn't want him to be as hairy as, say, Bobby... She shuddered thinking about the guy. She didn't want to know where he was at. Sometimes she still had nightmares about his wedding and his wedding vows, which were apparently traditional when you were a Son.

They kept silent, on the doorstep of her hotel room, and she had no idea where this would go. Trying to regain some control, she said:

"I'm doing surgery at St Thomas in a couple of days."

She didn't say "that's why I'm back", nor did she say "that's the only reason I would ever come back", but she heard it anyway in the words she spoke, and she wondered if he could hear it too.

"Look at you, a badass surgeon..." He said with a smile, flirtingly.

"I'm a fellow, or a resident, whatever you want to call it. I still have supervision, I am not a full fledged surgeon," she said, to tell the truth, but also to put an end to his flirting.

It wasn't really true, though she thought. Yes, she still had exams, and board exams, and more exams to qualify in her specialty, but truth be told, she had been born a doctor in waiting, and growing up she had turned into this surgeon waiting for the moment when she would finally receive the proper training to do what she felt like she had been put on Earth to do.

She saved babies. She saved families. Or at least she did her best.

"Jax?" Came the yell from further away, and both Jax and Tara jumped.

She pushed her head out the door, and saw a girl, a trashy one, with fake blonde hair and the typical physical appearance of someone who was using heroine sitting on the back of his Harley he had parked below.

Part of her was stunned, by what it meant, if it even meant something... He had come to see her, hoping to see her really and hoping he hadn't dreamt it was her, but he had brought his croweater with him, why? Just in case he was wrong, and he wanted to get back to business?

"Your date awaits," she said, starting to close the door in his face.

He put his foot in the door to prevent her from locking her out, and said:

"She's not... It's not... Can we get together for coffee sometime?"

"All three of us?" She asked bitterly. "That would be lovely. Maybe I'll even bring a date!" She sniped.

And she kicked his foot out, closing the door in his face, shying herself away from him.

Jax Teller, Ladies and Gentlemen, the guy you wanted to bring back home to meet your grandma, and would probably fuck your cousin...

She grunted, yet didn't do it completely out loud as she hadn't heard him go away. She could still see his profile in the crack of the window. She couldn't believe his nerve.

She decided she didn't have too, actually. She was here for a surgery. Time to let Teenage love sick-Tara back in her chest, where she had taken residence, and let the badass surgeon who had teachers fighting among themselves to be the one who would be her mentor come out.

She went to the bathroom, and lifted up her shirt.

She looked at the crow, from this weird angle. It was still there, even if she had wanted too, she never had had enough money to have it removed. Yet, right now, right fucking now, she was glad it was there. It was a reminder of a girl she had been, and it was a warning to the woman she wanted to be now, some sort of cautionary tale.

She kept on rubbing the flesh, almost like she was caressing the bird. They had a long history together, and it stood for so many things...

When she got back in the bedroom, she saw that Jax had finally left.

"I'm a surgeon," she said out loud, "and go fuck yourself Jackson Teller."

It was as good a creed as anything else. She hoped she wouldn't have to see him again.

She tried, at least. When it came to success, the jury was still out, out of pity for her, as the verdict was so obvious.

Fuck Charming, fuck the Teller Sunny Boy. Hail to the Surgeon Queen.

This time, she almost believed it so she kept on saying it, over and over again, and it soothed her, as well as the burn on her back.

When she had been younger, she had thought she would be Queen of Charming as she was dating Charming royalty.

She was a Queen, alright, just not his, and she was fine with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to make this quick: I have written a very very very long fic I have never published, nor finished to be honest, about Jax and Tara from when they were 15 to when she left. For that fic, I had had to work out the chronology of their lives. I guess until we see Tara's grave, I won't know for certain if the chronology I had worked out it accurate, but basically, in 1995, she was 15, and he was closer to 17. I've always thought she was a couple of years younger than he was.  
> Secondly, as the story took place if she had come back 5 years earlier, and the show starts in 2008, then it's set in 2003, and Tara should be 24. She's young to be a surgeon, but since she left Charming when she was 17 to enter uni, etc it's plausible that she finished her internhip and just started what's next. I may be wrong. I'm not from the US so I had to wikipedia her probably university path. I don't want to make her a Mary Sue who is a genius surgeon, you should read it as, she left the man she loved and a life she couldn't get behind, and put all her energy into becoming this surgeon she wanted to be. Being 24 and starting your residency sort of implies she was really great, and amazing but from what we've seen on the show, and the way hospitals were still fighting to have her work fr them even after her hand got fucked, well, I hope you wil get behind my reasoning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I've been swamped.  
> I don't know when the next part is coming, but bear with me...  
> Finaly, I've had questions about happy endings for this fic. I can't promise one, but I can't promise there won't be one. I just want you to read and now that the end may not be one way or another, and I need you to be okay with it...

When she showed up the next day at St Thomas to start working, even though she was exhausted from having slept very little, Tara felt fine. Hell, she would even say she felt wonderful, without overselling it: work always made everything better in her case. She couldn't wait to get started on the procedure.

Philips had been waiting for her, making small talk about where she had chosen to stay, and if she was staying with family. She had dodged that question, saying she never had that much family in Charming anyway, which wasn't a lie. He asked if she had ran into old friends, and she had been able to use the same evasion technique. She didn't want to lie to her mentor, especially since he had taken her on a trip across the country so that she could assist on a procedure, but she didn't want to spill those beans. She wanted him to think of her as a fellow surgeon, and not as a girl who was coming home after having been gone for a long time. In some ways, she was, but she didn't want that to define her.

They had gone to meet their patient and his family. Old habits really did die hard, Tara thought, as she had felt shifty around so many Mayans patches. She had been a Son's lady, and it was just like the tattoo on her back, there was no rubbing it off.

She could see that the leader, whose son they would be operating on, kept on watching her, not that discreetly, trying quite obviously to figure out why she rang a bell, and she hoped this wouldn't be an issue if he were to connect the dots. She took notes on his son's pathology, and talked to the little boy, knowing you had to gain the parents' trust for sure but that the worst mistake one could make was to forget who their actual patient was. On that front, it was pretty smooth, as the boy took a liking to her.

When they left the room, her arms laden with books and charts and whastnot, Philips turned to her and said:

"I think my Mayan friend remembers you from somewhere… Will it be a problem?"

"Only if he makes it into one," she answered truthfully. "I used to be part of Charming's crowd, and I have no intention of denying it, but this is not who I'm now. I'm a surgeon, from Chicago, and I can help his son… We can help his son," she said, changing the pronouns," but you know what I mean. I have no issue with him. He has no reasons to have any with me."

"Good. Where are you off to now?" He asked.

"I want to do some research. I heard about an article on the kid's condition, published by the Mayo clinic. I would like to try and see if they could fax it over. It's about an alternative technique to …"

And she told him about what she had heard through the professional grapevine. They both felt quite secured about the method they planned to use, but they both would rather be too thorough rather than not enough, especially since the actually operation wouldn't take place for another 3 days. They agreed on Tara trying to get her hands on those articles, and more if she heard about more. Philips said he would send some emails to colleagues to help her task, hopefully helping get to the papers faster.

Philips went to the office he had been assigned for his short stay there, and Tara had a moment when she sort of disliked her boss, as he didn't invite her to share his quarters. They had been working closely together for a while, and she knew that the emails he planned to send and the phone calls he would make didn't warrant complete solitude in his office. They could have shared.

Then again, he was her boss. Maybe he hadn't liked the fact that she had decided to get in touch with her Mayo people without telling him first, and this was his way of punishing her. Whatever, she told herself, she could deal with that. She went to meet the hospital's administrator, an old guy who seemed to be counting the days until he could retire, and he told her that she could use the interns' office. There was an internet connection there, as well as a phone and a printer. He pointed her to one of the nurses, who found her some scrubs and a blouse, something she had missed dearly that morning. When you were wearing a blouse, people didn't care about what you had had for lunch, or if you used to shag guys when you were a teenager. They only cared about the medical knowledge you had to have and how it would save their loved ones. Perhaps if she had been wearing this medical attire, instead of a suit, there would have been less staring and more listening to what they were saying.

She changed in the locker room, then made her way to her new "office". During that day, she met with a couple of interns, but they mostly stayed on their side and let her do her thing. After making a few phone calls to colleagues and old friends, and Philips having done the same, Tara had a list of publications to get her hands on. Since it was too late to have the books delivered, she would have to spend as much time as she could making calls and asking for favors, so that people would share the articles through the internet.

Philips and she were quite certain that they were planning on doing things right, or as right as they could, but research had evolved on this pathology, and they had felt the obligation to get up to date on that. Tara was in charge of gathering the "intel", reading it, processing it, and then forwarding it to her supervisor if she thought he would benefit from what she had read.

She had so much work to do, she got started right away.

The day after, in the beginning of the afternoon, Tara put down the article she had printed and was reading, and got up to stretch. She had slept at the hospital, only going back to her motel room for a shower and some clean underwear. Obtaining the articles and research was like trying to get rocks to bleed, as most surgeons only wanted to expose the result of their research in grand venues, at medical conferences, but she was getting there. She supposed she had gotten a bloody tear or two from that proverbial rock. Philips was … She didn't even know what he was doing. She knew he had a pager if she needed him and that was it.

She decided to go for a walk, maybe to the cafeteria for something to eat. She took her article with her, as well as her patient's chart, and made her way slowly through the corridor, thinking how all hospitals were sort of the same. They could be arranged in very different fashion of course, but since functionality was the focus point of everybody's efforts, some paths were the same, some use of space absolutely identical from one hospital to another.

She was about to enter the cafeteria, when she saw someone who felt so familiar seating on the side. She must have stared too intensely, for the person lifted their eyes and met hers.

"Tara!" Donna exclaimed, getting up to hug her former friend.

A bit surprised, Tara returned the hug, then took a good look at her friend. She had been crying.

"Donna, what's going on?" She asked, as she maneuvered them so that they would be sitting.

"You work here now?" Donna asked. "You look so doctor-ish like that!"

"I'm visiting for a consult, and the scrubs and blouse are responsible for the doctorish appearance," Tara answered, using her friend's words with a smile.

"Still far away from Charming then?" Donna asked.

Tara didn't answer, as they both knew the answer.

"So, how have you been," the surgeon asked. "How is Opie? How are the kids?"

She seemed to remember from a conversation a long time ago that Donna and Opie had tied the knot and started breeding…

Donna burst out crying again, and Tara pulled her in for a hug, hating how sad her old friend was.

They stayed like that for a short time, Donna sniffling on her shoulder, and Tara waited, patiently, for her to be able to speak again.

Finally, Donna lifted her head, wiped some of her tears and said:

"I should have left when you did."

"Oh Donna." Tara said, her heart breaking.

Donna and Opie… They had been the real deal. (She didn't let her mind wander to Jax and her, who had been the real deal too.) If Donna was having regrets, then things had to be terrible.

"No I shouldn't have", Donna started again. "I just… Opie is in jail. He got five years, with parole in three years, except he will never make parole. He's been locked in for a month now, and I just… I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I'm taking care of our babies, Ellie and Kenny, but I feel so trapped, and so fake… Like I'm telling my kids their father is a good guy, and I know it in my heart, but when they ask what Daddy did wrong to go to jail, I'm faced with my lies or my contradictions, and I don't know what to say… Fucking Sons of Anarchy."

Tara took a quick look around to make sure nobody had heard her friend's outburst. She agreed, for sure, but she knew that the people from Charming would be less understanding, and she didn't want Donna to get in more trouble than she already was in.

"I'm so sorry Donna…"

"Don't be. Those are my choices, right? At one point, you decided to go, and part of me wants to give you a standing ovation for doing that. I was stupid. I stayed. And now I'm raising two kids on my own, with the help of my detestable mother in law, all the while trying to remember why I'm here, and why I have to do those things…."

"You love Opie", Tara said, with a sad smile, knowing exactly what it meant to love a Son. "And you wanted to be with him. You made that choice, and it's such a courageous choice too."

"A stupid one," Donna said, rolling her eyes.

"Let's say a debatable one," Tara offered. "However, you stood by your man, and you're still standing by your man. You're so brave…"

"I don't feel brave," Donna said, more tears pooling in her eyes. "I want to … I don't know. I haven't been to see Opie yet. I'm too pissed at him, for putting me in that position. Yes, I understand that being a Son is huge, but I thought I was something more important, and that even if I wasn't, our children were…. How could he let himself get caught up in all that, and leave us behind, for five fucking years? How does he dare assume that I will wait, that we will wait for him? I should leave him. Take my kids, and never come back, spare them the life they would have growing up in that environment…"

Tara wasn't sure what to say. She could hear so many of her own arguments for leaving in what Donna said, but she also knew that things were different. Donna and Opie had kids. When Tara had left, there had been no complication of that kind to take into account. It had been about her, selfishly, and the only persons suffering from the choices she made were Jax and her. She knew Donna was probably was just venting out, and Tara vowed to listen, but give no advice. She was not in Donna's shoes, and she didn't know what she would do if she had children to protect.

She hoped she would always put her children's safety first though. It was one of the reasons she had left, on top of wanting to be more than an Old Lady. She could see the life Jax had lived, and still lived, and she hadn't wanted that for their imaginary children.

She realized she had kept silent for too long, and Donna was looking at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about your quandary. I hate that you're there and that you're so unhappy…"

"Lookie look what the cat brought in… Wendy was right." She heard on their left, and she would have recognized that voice anywhere.

Gemma Teller-Morrow was standing next to them, looking at them, and Tara was overwhelmed once again by memories, of despairing because Jax's mother hated her, and Jax loved her so much…

Tara felt Donna tense next to her, and it wasn't too hard to figure out what was happening. Someone must have seen them, and saw that Donna was crying. Maybe they even heard bits of their conversation. Gemma was called, to make sure that Donna was brought back on the right path, the path which meant she would wait for her husband faithfully, as people wanted her to. Nobody would hear her cry for help, or her frustrations. Maybe Gemma would, but she would turn things around, play the children card, and convince Donna to stay in Charming. After all, the Sons and their families looked after each other, whether it was for the best or not.

"Hello Gemma," Tara finally said.

She didn't offer an explanation of why she was there. Chances were Gemma had already been filled in. She didn't ask either who Wendy was, though she thought it likely that Wendy had been the girl on Jax's bike the other night. After all, she was with the Son the only one to have seen her. Tara just wished she knew her. It would have only been fair, no?

"Donna, come on, dear," Gemma said, putting her hand on Donna's shoulder, possessively. "Come and tell Gemma what's wrong. You don't need advice from a traitor."

She loathed herself for it, but the jibe hit Tara in the heart, and she wanted to cry or to defend herself.

She did nothing of that sort.

"It was so good seeing you again, Tara," Donna said. "I hope we see each other again soon… Don't be a stranger, ok? Keep in touch… You can find my number in the book…"

Tara smiled sweetly.

They both knew there would be no keeping in touch, like Gemma's dark stare wasn't proof enough. Tara was a "traitor", and Donna was a Son's wife. Even if they wanted to, they wouldn't be able to keep in touch. They would be from opposite side of that weird son-of-anarchy-esque spectrum, and for them to keep in touch, it would require so many efforts, more than they could probably provide and still go on with their lives.

Tara kept on smiling at Donna. She kissed her cheek, and hugged her, pushing away Gemma's hand.

"You're brave, Donna," Tara said, with a smile. "I think you may be the bravest person I've ever met. Don't ever change, okay?"

Donna's eyes filled with tears, understanding the hidden message, about standing her ground. Tara didn't know if the woman would be able to do so, but she just wanted her to know how much admiration she had for her. Donna was Tara in many ways, if she hadn't gone away (run away?).

Gemma helped Donna up and they went to the cafeteria. Gemma kept on throwing daggers at Tara over Donna's shoulders, and Tara didn't flinch. Some things never changed.

She went back to the intern's' office, her appetite gone.

She spent another day in the office, changing at the motel then driving back at the hospital where she slept. The articles had started pouring in, everybody wanting to share now that the exchange had started: the first papers were always the most difficult to get, and then it became easier, as people would offer their contribution in exchange for access to another article or publication. The interns had deserted the office, letting it for Tara and her mountains of paper lying around She wished she felt bad about robbing their space, but she didn't. Another couple of days and they would be getting it back. They were supposed to operate the next day in the evening.

She went to the cafeteria, taking advantage of the fact that it was breakfast time. She grabbed a couple of articles, for reading while she had something to eat.

When she arrived to the cafeteria, it was almost empty, almost being the key word.

Jax was there, sitting at a table, with a cup of coffee in front of him, and another on in his hand. There were scones on the table too, and some butter. He got up when he saw her come in, and smiled that smile that made her think of him as her Sunny boy.

He looked uncertain, but hopeful.

"We said we'd have coffee, remember?" He said breaking the silence. "Since you wouldn't come to me, I'm bringing it to you. Scones too."

There were so many things she felt, and others she should have, but she was too tired, or perhaps the gesture was too adorable. Damn that Sunny Boy and his Sunny smile. She gave him a small smile, and nodded.

His smile got even brighter, and he held out a chair for her to sit, which she did.

She had no idea what they were doing, but she loved it already.

A/N: Please Read and review!

A/N2: I was asked how Wendy would have been able to recognize Tara. I'm sure Jax must have kep pictures of the two of them somewhere, being who he is. Furthermore, I am sure the story of how Tara left Charming and Jax became a legend of some sort, so when Wendy, who was the croweater on the bike in the previous chapter so that brunette that rung a bell, she put two and two together, and reported what she had seen to Gemma.


	4. Chapter 4

In a way, this was completely surreal, but everything had felt that way since she had been told she was going to perform surgery at St Thomas. She tried to get herself under control, be cool, and not feel like the teenage girl she used to be, a girl who had loved this Sunny boy so much she had considered giving up on her dreams to stay with him. She hadn’t, in the end, believing she owed it to her mom to try and have the life she had dreamed about and told her mother about when she was 5 or 6.

She made her way to him, and sat opposite to him.

"You always had smooth moves…" She said, with a tender smile.

"That’s a lie, and you know it. I am only smooth when properly motivated…" He said, smiling and looking so much like the 19 years old boy she had left behind those years back. 

She thought about the croweater who had been sitting on his bike a few days back, and held back a comment about his smoothness there. It made her heart ache but at the same time, she was glad her head was still looking out for her even when her instincts yelled at her to just kiss him, and give him babies, as many as he’d like, and stay by his side. Her head knew she was not this girl, would never be this girl: she was the surgeon nobody expected her to actually become, and she had to keep working on it to achieve her dream completely. 

"You’re awfully silent…" He said. "Did I lose my touch? Have you started hating scones? Given up on coffee?" He asked, pretending to be joking, but she could see behind the mask. 

She was always able to see behind the façade, whatever he chose to go with. She had seen his true face and he couldn’t hide it from her, not even if he wanted to, something she wasn’t sure he did.

"I’m just tired… I spent the night sleeping on a bunk bed, and I’m pretty sure the other bed was occupied by at least two persons instead of one, and sleeping was the last thing on their mind…"

"Does it actually happen, interns or doctors getting it on in the on call rooms?"

She had to refrain from smiling, knowing he had heard of this rumor not through watching TV shows for example, but that it was a trope in many adult movies.

"Afraid so…" She replied, with a wicked smile. "You learn to knock before entering an on call room, or making your presence known through excessive coughing when somebody would enter the room you were trying to have a nap in. I actually gave myself bronchitis or something quite similar once."

"Did they leave?" He asked with a cheeky smile.

"Of course not. They offered me to join them. I had never been so glad my beeper got off…" She said laughing. "I of course saw them again, later on, as we were in the same program. In a strange way, it made me lose all inhibitions toward them, not as in I decided to jump in their bunk bed the next time it was offered, but as in since they had gotten me so wrong and believe they could lure me in bed and then steal my surgeries, I would just skip the luring part and steal as many surgeries from them as I could.”

“Did they keep offering after you started stealing surgeries from them?” He asked, like a child who couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

It was so endearing. You would have thought a Son of Anarchy had seen it all, twice, and set the guy who sold the t-shirt on fire.

“Oh boy!” She exclaimed. “Surgeons are so fucking competitive, I think they actually believed for a long time that it was me initiating foreplay. This was just me stealing surgeries, really… I’m still not sure they got that what was I was doing actually,” she said, remembering their antics. 

Thank God she had changed program and teaching hospital. At one point, this could have gotten even messier than it had been when it had happened.

“Damn!” He exclaimed. “I think you found the one story that could have persuaded 15 year old me to actually pay attention in school…” He said laughing.

She wondered if he meant that he would have loved having sex with her everywhere and more, or if it was an allusion to some womanizing habit. She couldn’t tell if she wished it would have been the first meaning or the second, but she knew for certain it made her bleed a little that she had to wonder instead of assume he wanted to get down and dirty with her all the time. Years had passed, but the love she had felt for him was still a knife. Sometimes she had thought she was in control of it, and manipulating the weapon as she pleased. Other times, she had just felt the sting and the pain, unable to do anything to regain control.

“You’re dreaming, Teller. You’re completely forgetting about your absolute inability to stop giggling when we studied the reproductive system, and all you and Opie could say was “boobs!” when the teacher would show us diagrams of breasts. That is still weird, now that I think of it…”

“Teenage boys… Show us a tiny bit of skin, tell us it belongs to a girl, and we’ll be persuaded you’re showing us bits of her pussy…”

She found herself snorting, thinking back about one of her rotations a couple of years back. He gave her a look, and she explained:

“I’m sorry, I’m just remembering my ob-gyn rotation. We’d actually tell each other stuff like, ‘what did you do all day?’ and we would answer “swam in pussies of course.” Or “that last cunt was the death of me.” It was a weird time…”

“I don’t think you can picture the amount of money I would have given for someone to be recording you while you said this, matter of factly after a long day… If you had called me and told me about your day…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, awkwardness coming back extremely fast. He had never gotten to hear her talk about her day as a med student, or as an intern, and this was a reality they were dancing around, pretending it didn’t matter, when it did.

She coughed slightly, and got a scone, and some butter. It was cafeteria food, so of course it was crap, but it tasted heavenly, and she couldn’t help but think it had to do with who had gotten it for her.

“How did you know I would come out now for breakfast?” She asked him, between two bites.

He was watching her eat with a silly proud expression on his face, and she knew he wouldn’t have been able to look prouder even if he had made the scones himself.

“The interns all have something in common: big debts. There will always be one willing to do someone a favor to pay some of those debts back…”

Her mouth fell open, her hand holding the piece of scone she had been able to swallow. She was so shocked…

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said right away, laughing his head off, “it was too easy. I just went by the motel a couple of time and you were never there, so I took a leap of faith…”

“Jerk!” She muttered, not listening to her heart beating like mad who was overwhelmed with him and his presence.

She tossed the piece of scone at him, and he avoided it luckily.

“Don’t go around tossing food at me, woman! I truly believe some plastic surgeries cost less money than these scones did!”

“Classy, Teller, so classy,” she told him, shaking her head at him. “You’re not supposed to tell how expensive a gift was!”

“I didn’t!” He said, looking outraged. 

“No, you just implied a boob job would have been cheaper”, she said, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe not a boob job… Or maybe just one boob.”

“Who would want a one only boob job?” She found herself saying, looking actually really confused by this notion.

“I don’t know, but I want you to know that you don’t need either a one or two boob job,” he said, like he was declaiming poetry.

She snorted again, and tossed him the remainder of her scone.

“Wow. I can cross that of my bucket list. I actually have the right number of boobs,” she said.

“You always had the right number of bosom,” he said, trying to sound smooth, “I was just saying that on top of that, the ones you were blessed with are superb.”

Which got her laughing out loud, and freely. She tried to muffle the sounds by putting her hand in front of her mouth, but he looked so much like a doofus, and a proud one too, she just couldn’t stop the laughter.

He didn’t mind, watching her like… like he hadn’t seen her in years, which she supposed was accurate.

She got herself back under control and took a sip of her coffee.

This was an interlude, she told herself, it was all it was, and all it could ever be. She had reasons for coming back to Charming, and none of them had to do with the man sitting in front of her, or the bird tattooed on the small of her back. Sure, it was pleasant, and amazing, but it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last, and she couldn’t let herself believe otherwise, no matter how thoughtful the gesture had been.

“You went by the motel?” She asked, wanting to talk about something that didn’t scream “we used to be lovers and thought we would always be”.

“Yeah. Quite a few times. Peter actually told me that if he saw my bike there again, he was charging me a room and sending me the bill…”

“Did you bring back Wendy every time you came over?” She found herself asking, and being suite surprised by the words she was saying. “You could have made good use of that room if need be…”

She was too old to wish she could travel back in time and take back what she had said, so she forced herself to look detached.

“Tara,” he started, squirming on his seat.

He bent toward her, and tried to grab her hand, as he was looking for words. She escaped his touch by using both hands to hold her coffee, and leaning back in her chair, pretending nothing was going on, or nothing had been said that should have remained unsaid.

“Tara,” he started again, “it’s not what you think…”

At that, she had to give him a look, or what he used to refer as “the look”, the one that said she wasn’t buying the crap he was about to try feeding her.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” she said, “I’m sure you were just giving her a ride wherever she needed to go, and when you asked her if you could stop by the motel, she agreed because, you know, I’m sure she’s just that wonderful and understanding. Those are key characteristics for croweaters,” she said, like she was just praising them.

He sighed, knowing a lost cause when he saw one. The guy had brought a croweater on the back of his bike when he had come by to see if he could talk to her and maybe come in for a while. No words or metaphors could change the fact that a fucking croweater had been sitting waiting for him to be finished with her when he had come over.

She chastised herself, telling herself she shouldn’t think about that, it didn’t deserve a second thoughts. Boys would be boys, and Jax was a boy when it came to women. He was his mommy’s boy and every other girl’s bit on the side, the one they would always welcome in their bed, or any flat surface if they had to make do.

When they had been together, she had never been sure one hundred percent of his faithfulness, or of his cheating, but years later, she knew the kind of boy he was. She just hoped she had been paranoid and not a cuckold when she had called him hers.

“How do you know about Wendy?” He asked.

“Seriously? She was sitting on your fucking bike when you came over!” Tara found herself saying forcefully, on the verge of raising her voice.

“Jesus Christ, Tara, I’m not that fucking stupid. I mean, how do you know her name is Wendy? She was never in Charming when you were…”

“Would you believe me if I said your mom said “hi?” Of course you wouldn’t”, she said, taking another sip of her coffee. “You know the only thing your mom would ever say to me would rhyme heavily with “get the fuck out you witch.” The first part would be verbatim. It’s the epithet she would change.”

“Tara…” He said again, looking desperate, like he was losing all he had ever wanted.

He had just brought her breakfast, he didn’t get to look like she was stepping over his heart (why did a part of her felt like adding ‘all over again’). Breakfast wasn’t going the way he had planned, and that was all he was allowed to mourn. If he had had any expectations, she had no reasons to feel guilty for possibly crushing them.

Sure, keep telling yourself that, Tara, she told herself.

“Gemma never hated you…” He started.

“Please, Jax, I’m begging you, don’t say that,” she said. “I mean, if our history means anything to you, anything at all, out of respect for the love we had for each other, don’t try to feed me that lie one more time. Your mother hated me. And I loved her so much… You kept on saying she just needed to get to know me or whatever, and all I could think was “what did I ever do for this amazing woman to hate me on sight?” I wanted her to love me. Hell, I would have settle for her liking me, or being able to be in the same room as me without making me feel like I was perverting her good boy. Truth be told, we perverted each other. A lot. And I yearned for her approval, for a crumb of respect, for anything coming from the woman who meant the world to you. I didn’t get it then. Why should I get it now?”

She was so tired, she needed to go lie down, and shut her mouth, for a long time preferably.

“Okay,” he finally said, reaching for her hand once again, and this time she let him hold it just a moment, a second or two, for her sake even more than for his. “Okay, I won’t tell you that lie once again. I don’t know why my mother hated you and it killed me that she did. It kills me that she still does, from what you’re implying. I’m sorry. I think she just knows that you’re that woman, for me, the one that threatens her. If I had to make a choice between her and you, she knows she may not like the results at all.”

It didn’t escape her at all that they were suddenly talking in present tense, and she took her hand back.

“What does she think of Wendy?” She asked, as a way to put distance between them.

He sighed again, but felt compelled to tell her the truth, she saw it in his eyes.

“I think she thinks Wendy could be old lady material. I’m not sure I agree.”

“Fucking hell,” Tara found herself spitting. “A girl who was a virgin and who loved her son more than she loved herself, Gemma had all the hate in the world for that naïve lamb, but a croweater who sucked the dicks of every Son from here to Heaven knows where, she deems her worthy of her respect? Don’t give me that look, I’m not being rude or overreacting. We both know what croweaters have to do, or who they have to do, all the time, whether they want it or not, in order to obtain a position at one point in their life in your bloody club. We’ve already established Wendy is a croweater. I don’t give two fucks if she screwed you, and Bobby, and even Clay and the rest of that merry band, I only care about the fact that her promiscuity gets her kudos, when my love for you got me nothing.”

He rubbed his face with his hand, and she wondered how they had gotten there.

She had wanted Gemma to love her so much… She hated the power she still had over her. She hated that when she thought back of times when Gemma had interacted with the four of them, her, Jax, Opie and Donna, Gemma had always been so nice and delightful to Donna, when Tara had been at best ignored, she hated that the older woman had sometimes made her hate the only girl in the world who understood her back then. Donna’s love and affection should have been enough, but Tara had craved Gemma’s so much.

“I’ve got to go,” Tara said, getting up, choking up on some tears she swore she wouldn’t shed. “I’ve got work to do. Thanks for coffee and scones.”

“Tara...” Jax said again, grabbing her hand as she got up.

She hated the fact that she still loved it when it said her name, even when it wasn’t in a loving fashion as then. Charming was venomous, and he was her poison of choice.

“Please, Tara… Can we…”

And he stopped, his eyes going over her shoulder. She followed his glance, and saw the father of her patient. It took her a second more, another proof of how tired she was, to put together the fact that the father was Mayan, and the guy holding her hand was a Son. For Fuck’s Sake.

She looked at the father, and felt Jax go feral. She turned back to him, seeing that he was ready to jump at the other’s throat, and just get brutal, for they were not meant to be in the same place without one of them dying.

“Don’t you dare touch him or do anything”, she hissed at Jax.

He was so surprised to hear her defend his enemy, she had never seen such confusion in his eyes, but he got a hold of himself, and his eyes harden, as did his grip on her arm.

“He doesn’t belong here…”

“It’s a hospital. We all belong here. Get the fuck out if you can’t deal with that.”

“Tara!” He almost yelled.

“No, don’t Tara me,” she said back, forcefully yet her voice even. “This is a fucking hospital. I work here. I don’t give a fuck if you guys don’t get along beyond these walls, I’m the sheriff here. So either pony up and be civil, or fuck off!” She said, raising her voice, and shaking her arm from him.

The Mayan was making his way over to them, and Tara felt, quite frankly, panic.

Jax gave her one last look, and she imagined it would have been the one he would have given her when she would have left and said goodbye, for the betrayal in his eyes ran so deep it made her bleed inside. Then he was gone.

The Mayan was still moving toward her, enraged, and she just walked past him, bumping into him on her way out, and she ran to the interns’ office.

What the fuck would happen now? She knew she was in trouble, big trouble, unfair trouble too, and had no clue what it would mean for her. How she hated Charming.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If somebody feels like being a beta reader, you know where to find me!

When the knock came on the door, Tara felt like she hadn’t had enough time to even start processing what had just happened. Yet, it was time to face the music, and do the dance, the surgeon’s one. It was a tricky one, but she was a good dancer.

She opened the door of the interns’ office and was met by Philips.

“Tara, I don’t know what happened but…”

“Alvarez wants me off the case…” She finished for him. “Not happening. We’re going to see him. You have my back, right?”

The older surgeon looked at her solemnly, and she realized that this trip of theirs was bringing them closer, but could also break them for good. She could do without a lot of things in life, but she still needed him She needed the mentoring he could offer her. She needed the trust he had in her abilities even when she didn’t.

“Yes, I have your back,” he finally said. “But I have to be honest… My history with the Mayans… It goes way back and it’s too important. I owe them everything. I will never toss you under the bus, but if they ask me…”

“I know,” she said. 

She really did. If he didn’t muck up the rest of his debt to them with this surgery, Philips would still be a mob doctor on a leash for them. Saving that kid’s life meant freeing himself from their hold.

She had been around gang and their members for too long, she knew all of this by heart, the anthropology aspect of it, and the material side, all of it. It made sense. Hell, having been born in Charming, in some ways, it felt like it was part of her DNA, or her general constitution. It was innate. She understood that his ass was on the line, much better than she should. 

Silently, they made their way to their patient’s room, where M. Alvarez was pacing, obviously mad, raving in Spanish. She tried to hide it, but some of the words he spoke she took at heart, since they were about her and they questioned all that she was.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked when he spotted her.

His wife tried to lecture him, saying something about language in front of their toddler, but he was too pissed off to care. Hell, Tara was as pissed off, so he could bring it on, she could take it.

“Al,” Philips started, using his nickname for the Mayan, “just calm down and tell me what is going on…”

“This bitch is out to kill my son!” Alvarez spat out, pointing at Tara, like it wasn’t obvious he wasn’t talking about his wife or any other woman that could have been in the vicinity. 

“This bitch is doing no such thing,” she said coldly, but professionally.

“You were cavorting with that fucking Teller boy! He is a Son! You think I forgot you? Maybe I did for a while, but now it’s all come back to me. You left town years ago, but before that, you were his croweater, I remember you on his bike…”

“First of all,” Tara interrupted him, “I was never a croweater. Never,” she said again, feeling quite strongly about this picture he may have of her. “I was going to be his old lady. I do realize that’s not making my case for me, but it’s true. I didn’t fuck all of the Sons before I left Charming. I used to date one of them. Just that one. And yes, you saw us having coffee together today, but that was all it was, coffee!”

“I don’t want you anywhere near the OR when my kid gets his surgery. I’m sure the Sons have given you orders to kill him. Those cowards….”

He spat a few more insults in Spanish, and she forced herself to remain calm.

“Are you done?” She asked finally.

Surprised by this question, Alvarez nodded.

“Let’s pretend that there is an ounce of truth in all the crap you’ve just spat. Why would the Sons kill your kid? Did you kill one of theirs? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know, and not because I am afraid of the answer, but because learning that you’ve murdered one of their kids would make it very hard for me to save your kid’s life, period. I don’t receive orders from them, no more than I do from you. And you do want me in that OR. You need me there, or your kid will probably die… That’s not a threat!” she exclaimed when she saw him jump up coming for her. “It’s the fucking truth. Why do you think your trusted doctor friend brought along a resident with him? Do you think it’s some kind of teaching moment? I never wanted to come back to Charming, never. However, for Dr. Philips, I did. He knows I’m better at this particular type of surgery than he is, and that if I’m there, your kids gets an extra 25% of making it out alive of this surgery. You know how risky it is. You brought in a specialist for that. Do you think that specialist would burn himself with a rookie when dealing with something so important unless he knew it was essential to his patient’s wellbeing?”

Alvarez looked at Philips, who sighed, but had to nod, agreeing with what she was saying. She knew it must hurt his vanity, but sometimes you had to put aside things like vanity and pride, and just tell the naked truth. They had both known when he had asked her to tag along that it was more than a field trip. Of course, she would have said yes, whatever he had offered her to do, for the experience, but for him to ask her to come back to Charming, it had to be big. They had gotten drunk once together, and he had told her about his Mayan past. She had told him about her almost Old Lady status. They had never brought it up again, and sort of danced around the subject, but she was sure then that he remembered her confessions, and her his. Without a doubt, Philips knew what he had asked of her, and similarly, without a doubt, she knew he must have felt like he needed her there. Furthermore, the facts were there: she had quick but precise hands, and she had the knowledge. She had steel nerves, as most surgeons, and she was aware of her potential. She knew she was good. She felt it in her bones. Every child she saved was a victory, where luck played a part, but her skills did all the rest. She was that good.

“You need me in there. He needs me in there. Or do you want to play Russian roulette with your son’s life? That’s what you’d be doing. There are many surgeons out there who can do that procedure, for sure. I’m the one most likely to help your kid make it through. Do you trust your karma so much, your cookie and brownies points and whatever you call it to buy you the luck you’d be needing with anyone else? So I once dated a Son, but do you really want to take that risk? Besides, it was a zillion years ago. We were in high school. You know how love is when you’re that age…”

“I met my wife in high school,” he said.

She would have cringed, but the moment she had said those words, she had felt that was coming. Karmic reaction and all that…

“Good for you. I didn’t marry my high school sweetheart, I left him behind. I met other guys, even a girl or two. I moved on. I’m not that girl who was going to be an old lady anymore. I’m your best shot at keeping you son alive. But hey, if you want to roll those dice? Be my guest.”

And she stormed out of the room. She went back to the interns’ office, where she waited for the door to be locked before she threw her fist up in victory. She would operate on that kid, she had no doubt about it: the look on Alvarez’s wife’s face had screamed it. The way the woman had reached for his arm, and held her sons hand had shouted it louder than a megaphone.

She was just that good.

***

When Philips came by again later, he told her that she would be operating on the kid the next day’s evening, as planned.

“Are you mad?” She asked him, praying he wasn’t.

“Not mad. Sure, I wish we could have kept some of what you had said between you and me, but I’ve always known you were a cocky little thing, and when Al implied your surgeon skills may be impaired by your previous involvement with a Son, I knew you would hit back.”

“I got to his wife, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Philips said, with a proud smile. “The moment you left the room, she was screaming that you’d be in the OR or he’d better watch his back and sleep with only eye open in their bed for mothers who lost their children were not known to be rational, or pacific…”

She laughed then said:

“It’s true, though. I didn’t sell them something I couldn’t deliver. Besides, if the kid dies, so will I. I have no illusion or delusion here. If the kid dies, I’m toast.”

“Yet you advocated to be on that case anyhow…”

“The kid deserves his best shot, even if his father is a dick,” she shrugged it off.

Philips left soon after, and she was left to think. It was the honest to God truth, she realized. If the kid died…

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit it scared the hell out of her, but she had signed up for this, when she had entered med school and done her years. It was about the kid, not about the parents. The parents in this case were scarier than your usual “I will sue you if my kid dies even though you did your best” parents, but they were still parents. And the boy was still sick. She had pledged to heal people, no matter the cost. It would soon be time to prove she had meant it.

She briefly thought of her dad, and how attending her funeral would probably be the death of him.

She shook those thoughts off. She was good. Hell, she was better than good. That kid wasn’t dying, and neither was she.

That was, of course, if she made it till the next couple of days without running into a Son, or Heaven forbid, bloody Gemma. 

***

She went back to the hotel that night. She needed to get some actual rest, and the interns had sort of kicked her out of their office, implying that she was squatting. As she parked her rental in front of the motel, she felt the fatigue from the previous days overcome her suddenly. She needed sleep, badly.

She made her way out, and went to the reception, to check if she had messages.

It was that young girl again at the desk, the one who looked a bit too interested in becoming a croweater.

“You’ve got one message… Where the fuck did I put it? There it is…”

She handed Tara a note, and the fatigue was gone.

“When did you get that message?” She asked the girl.

“Dunno, maybe a couple of hours ago? Maybe more? Today for sure…”

She could have yelled at her, but she didn’t. It wouldn’t help. She got back in her car, and drove out of the motel perimeter. She drove the same old streets she remembered from when she was a child and a teen, until she was at the portal.

There it was, she thought. Maybe Alvarez wouldn’t get to worry about her killing his son, as she’d be dead first…

She took a new look at the message:

“Donna called, Kenny is running a fever and is covered with plaques. She wants you to come over.”

And that’s how Tara found herself taking a deep breathe, then putting her car forward as she entered the parking area of the Teller Morrow repair shop, or, as she remembered it, the Sons’ headquarters. 

Some were out, smoking, or playing or whatever, looking at her strangely, as it was late, and they didn’t know her, or maybe they did and wondered what the fuck she was doing here.

She didn’t let them affect her. She grabbed the first aid kit she had gotten from her motel room and added some of the medicine she had forgotten to take out of her pockets when she had left the hospital. She had hoped she would need them, but of course…

Another deep breathe.

Then another. And she forced herself out of the car, and walked to the main door.

Her heart was beating like mad drum, and she wondered if they had what was needed to bring her back if she went into cardiac arrest, as it seemed more and more likely she would.

She could feel the looks around her, and had rarely felt so self-conscious.

With one last deep breathe, she opened the door, as knocking was pointless in the compound. She entered the domain, where people were talking, smoking, laughing and more.

The conversation died down instantly when she was spotted.

“What the fuck are you doing here, traitor?”

She would have sighed but she had made a bet with herself on which words would greet them. Too bad she hadn’t bet money, she would have made a few bucks.

She saw them all, faces from the past, and some, faces of her present, whether she wanted it or not.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing here, rat?” Gemma growled again.

Time to face the music, or the witch, depending which way you looked at it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A quick but long chapter right away instead of on next Friday: the previous chapter was important, but so is this one. People have asked for some Jax/Tara moments, and it was always in my card to provide some of it. I hope you enjoy it, but keep in mind that it's always sunnier before the storm...  
> A/N2: I'm still looking for a beta, to discuss the plot with as I have an issue. If you feel competent, let me know...  
> AN3: Word hate the previous version of this chapter, like two hours ago. I wanted to die but I rewrote it. I hope this rewriting is still worth your while....

Tara woke up in a foreign room, next to somebody, having no idea how she had gotten there. She felt terrified, even more than when she thought about the fact that she may die if the surgery went wrong.

Oh Gosh…

It all started coming back to her. She had gone to the compound, only to be faced with Gemma.

***

“Donna asked me there,” Tara said, trying to push her way in.

Gemma tried to stop her, but Tara grabbed her wrist.

“You know, Gemma, now is not the time to be fucking with me. You wouldn’t be able to imagine the day I had, and how little patience I have for your bullshit. If you don’t get the fuck away and let me in, I will fuck your wrist.”

She pressed on one of the small bones to prove her point, and the woman winced.

“The wrist is full of little bones one can break for shits and giggles. God knows I hate violence, but sometimes, you’ve just had enough. So back the fuck off, or lose some of those little bones. And in case you were wondering, I do not fix the injuries I cause.”

She would blame the exhaustion on it for her violent display, but for once, Gemma seemed to get that she was not in front of the 17 years old she used to bully.

“Let go of my wrist if you want me to get out of the way,” the woman spat. “But don’t be surprised if somebody shoots you right after that.”

Tara let go of her wrist and said:

“Nobody will kill me, I was asked here, by Donna.”

“A lapse of judgment on her part. Run away, little girl, that’s the only thing you know how to do.”

“Enough Gemma!” Piney yelled, as he made his way to them. “Back the fuck off. Tara is my guest.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Gemma asked.

“No, you are. You’ve seen that my grandson is sick, and you would refuse him the care of a doctor? Jesus Gemma. I know your husband is the president of the club, but for in his absence, you are not his replacement. I am, while he is on a run with some of our boys. I’m the one in charge, as an original Member of Redwood. Donna wanted Tara to come and see Kenny, I agreed.”

Tara had felt warmth in her chest upon hearing the words of the old man. There was at least one person who was there for her, or at least who would stand up for her.

He looked a bit diminished from the Piney she remembered though, and she wondered if he was getting treatment for the ailment that was obviously eating him away. It hadn’t impacted on his charisma, but as a doctor, she saw the signs…

“Please, Tara, if Gemma’s manners haven’t made you rethink your wish to help us, then go into the living quarters, through that door. Donna’s room is the third one on the left.

“Gemma couldn’t deter me from anything, no matter how much she wishes she can. Thanks Piney,” Tara said, throwing the evil eye at Gemma who was doing the same back at her.

When she had gotten to the bedroom, she had gone into full doctor mode when she had seen how sick the little boy. He was crying, burning up and in so much pain. Donna was in tears, and so was Ellie. With their help, she managed to conduct an examination of the little boy.

“It’s scarlet fever,” she told Donna, who started sobbing even more. “No babe, it’s good news in a way. We can cure it. I can cure it, we just need to act fast… I need to find some medicine… Do you have any kiddy paracetamol? He could use it for the fever…”

“I do,” Donna said, running for her purse. “What’s next?”

“What’s next is that I go to the hospital, and get some antibiotics. Actually, I would like to put you and Ellie on an antibiotics course too, given that you may have been exposed. It would be a short treatment, but better safe than sorry, wouldn’t you say?”

Donna looked at her son so obviously suffering it seemed to tear her apart, then looked at her daughter, and Tara didn’t have to be a mother to know that she was imagining the same pain for her daughter.

“Give us antibiotics. We want them,” Donna had declared forcefully.

“Ok, I will.”

Tara grabbed her bag, ready to make her run for medicine, but she turned around, feeling like she needed to ask:

“What are you doing here, Donna? Am I wrong in thinking our beloved dragon lady Gemma had something to do with it?”

This got a chuckle out of the woman, who nodded.

“Without Opie… Everything is crap. I have nobody, and the people who pretend they are are not there for me, just for themselves, or for the club….”

“You’re not alone, Donna. Of course, you can count on me – I did risk my life getting to you when you asked for me – but you can also rely on Piney. Yes, he’s a Son, and the father or another Son, but he’s not like some of them. He’s seen a lot, maybe too much. You’re his daughter in law, and the mother of his grandchildren. Whether or not you want to be associated with the club, he would stick by your side.”

“I’ve always been weary of him,” Donna said, with tears in her eyes. “It was to please him that Opie became a Son, and look where we are…”

“I’m not saying the contrary, but you can’t blame on Piney all the choices that Opie made. I loved the Opie I knew, as I guess he must have changed a lot since the last time I saw him, but he was willing to do anything for his father’s approval. I don’t think he realized, or maybe even still realizes that when he made you his wife, he should have put water in his wine, and think about which master he wanted to serve, or whose love he wanted to have the most. I hate myself for saying that, but you can’t have it all… I know you’re too aware of that… My point was, Piney is good, though he’s not perfect…”

“I know. He allowed me to call you without asking for any reason when I asked him.”

Donna didn’t say she would give him a second chance, but Tara hoped her friend had heard what they had said. Right now, her baby was the only thing on her mind, and no one could blame her.

Tara made her way back to the main area, where once again, all conversation died down when she appeared. She wanted to shake her head, but it would do nothing in the end.

“So?” Piney asked, making his way to her from the bar.

“Scarlet fever. I don’t want to worry you Piney, but it’s bad… The fever is scaring me, there could be sequelae if we let it go on…”

“What do we do?”

“I want to find them some antibiotics, right now. I’m going to go to the hospital and try to fetch some.”

“You’re barely standing up on your own,” he said, and she realized suddenly that she had indeed been a bit wobbly when she thought she had been perfectly straight up. She was too tired.

“I need those antibiotics…” She said, determined even though exhausted.

“I can find some… We have some sources we can tap for such … resources,” he offered.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I would like real antibiotics, as in medicine I know hasn’t been tampered with. Maybe your sources could bring it, or maybe they would bring some adulterated products. We can’t risk this, especially with a child so young… He needs the real deal and we can’t take chances.”

She noticed Gemma, pouting, on the other side of the room, surrounded by croweaters, including a blonde Tara felt like she knew already even though they had never met. In some ways, Gemma was not a queen, but more of a Queen Bee, very much like high school, the queen of her clique. Given her age and the violent world she lived in, it would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.

“How about calling the hospital? Have them prepare what you need? I’ll send a prospect to pick it up so that you won’t have to move.”

Tara gave it a thought, then found herself wobbling again.

“I guess I can make that happen,” she conceded, having to admit she was in no shape to drive. “Thank you Piney. Is there a phone I can use?”

He pointed her to the bar. As she was making her way there, she heard a commotion, as the front door opened, and the Sons who were away came back.

“What the fuck is she doing there?” Clay roared. “She’s operating on a Mayan kid tomorrow. We don’t need that traitor around.”

Tara had a small smile on her face when she saw Gemma fly to her husband’s side, agreeing with everything he said. News surely travelled fast.

“If you have such a problem with people who save Mayans’ lives as well as others, then the next time one of you get shot or cut or whatever, I strongly suggests you do not go to Saint Thomas, or to any hospital in an 80 km radius. You’ll have to drive that far, and maybe further, to find a place where you’ll be sure your doctors haven’t tainted their hands and reputation by taking care of some of your Mayan enemies… Then again, those may have saved some 09ers….” Tara said, pretending to think about it. “I guess you have no choice but forego hospitals altogether from now on, if you really can’t stand the thought of people having cured people you consider your enemies… The other solution would be for you guys to stop making enemies and start building bridges toward friendship, but this is a fantasy straight out of a carebear mind.”

“Tara, enough”, Piney said. “Clay, if you want to call a meeting because I let her in, go ahead, but she’s staying. I don’t give a fuck about her saving Mayans as long as she saves my grandson too.”

“You’re being melodramatic,” Clay said.

“No,” Donna said, coming in with her son in her arms and her daughter in tow, “he’s not. My kid is not alright. I called Tara, and she can cure him. I’m sorry if it rubs you the wrong way, Clay, but what’s done is done. You have to deal with it. If you want us out of here because of that, we can live with that actually. We’d love to be back to our house instead of this jail…”

“You’re no prisoner here,” Piney told his daughter in law, surprised by her virulence.

“Aren’t we? I really didn’t feel like I was being given a chance to say no when Gemma put us in her car and told us that we had to be with ‘family’, before dropping us here,” Donna said.

Gemma looked away, guiltily, and Piney looked like he had been struck by lightning.

“I’ll drive you home tomorrow morning, I swear it. You will not be forced to stay somewhere you don’t want to be. I just think we ought to wait till morning, till Kenny hopefully finally gets a good night’s sleep before I get you back there, as I don’t think the moving around would help. However, you’ve got my word, Girl. I’ll get you back home.”

“I’ll hold you to it”, Donna said, looking at her father in law with newfound respect.

As things calmed down, Tara went to the phone, and dialed the interns’ office number. Someone picked up, and she started talking:

“This is Dr. Knowles. I need you to write a prescription, get the products from the pharmacy, and deliver them to a Son of Anarchy who will be waiting outside for you. If you do this without piping a word or raising an objection, or just being a pain in my ass in general, you’ll get to scrub in tomorrow night; Hell, if you’re really good, you might even get to hold a clamp. What do you say?”

The intern on the line agreed right away, and Tara gave him the list of what she needed. When she hung up, she told Piney:

“He said he should have everything in less than 30 minutes. I think that if there is a Son in the parking area, it could be even quicker…”

“Gotcha,” the old man said. “Juice, get your ass to St Thomas, and be quick.”

The prospect looked at Clay first, who rolled his eyes but agreed, and then he nodded, and went to do as he had been told.

Tara noticed that Donna and the kids were nowhere to be seen, and she assumed that they had gone back to their room, so she made her way there. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed that Jax was following her.

When she got to the room, she was surprised to find it empty, and cursed, figuring that they must have gone to the kitchen, given the hour. She went to sit on the couch, not being able to stay up longer.

“Are you okay?” Jax asked, sitting on the end of the bed, in front of her.

“Just tired…. It’s been a long couple of days…”

“Tara… We need to talk about this morning,” he said.

She picked up on the fact that he didn’t sound irate, more like resigned.

“Do we have to?” She asked. “Yes, I will operate on Alvarez’s son. No, I won’t kill that kid if you asked me to.”

“What the fuck Tara? I would never ask you to kill that kid? I may hate his dad, but he’s innocent.” Jax said, looking honestly outraged by what she had implied, and it made her feel good in a very inappropriate way.

“Good. You don’t get a say on what I do and who I operate on.”

“I know. Or I’m learning it, something in between. Though, to be fair, I think you made me hate Alvarez a bit less, even though he killed so many of my brothers.”

She looked up at him, as he took her hands in his.

“He’s the reason you’re back in Charming. He gets some credit for that. I never thought you would come back again.”

“Neither did I,” she said.

“So yeah. I still hate him mostly, like I’ve got 99.99% of hatred for him, but the rest… I may be indebted to him…”

She laughed.

“Smooth again, Teller, telling me I made you change 0.01% of your hatred into something less violent. You really say the sweetest thing.”

“1 whole percent then. But no more.”

She snorted.

They were interrupted by Donna who came back with the kids and food.

Jax let go of Tara’s hands, and started talking to the kids. Tara watched them do, have that one moment when it wasn’t about the club, and nodded off. A knock on the door woke her up, and Donna went to open. It was Juice, with the medicine.

Tara went to the bathroom, both to wash her hand but also put some water on her face.

When she came back, she started laying out the products, telling Donna about the medicine she should take and that she needed to give to Ellie. She then produced a syringe.

“For his first dose, as he’s so sick, I had to ask for an injection, to make sure he’ll get some sleep tonight,” she said.

Kenny started crying, and Tara felt his pain, knew he was scared.

She got out of the bedroom and went to the living area. Once, she was met by complete silence when she appeared.

“Piney, would you mind coming with me?” She asked.

The old man got up as quickly as he could, and followed her. Kenny was still crying, and Donna was doing her best to quiet him down. Jax looked at Tara and her companion, his eyes clearly asking what she was doing.

“I need to give Kenny an injection,” she told Piney, “and he’s really scared… I thought that maybe you could help…”

He nodded, and sat on the bed, next to Donna and the wailing Kenny.

“Did Grandpa ever tell you about that time he was sick?” He said.

Kenny stopped crying, surprised to see his grandfather, in what was full grandfather mode too talk to him. He climbed on his lap and listened, as Piney gave him a very innocent and far from the truth version of the things he had suffered when he had been diagnosed with cancer. His point was that an injection didn’t hurt, if your mommy was there to kiss it better after it happened.

“But your mama wasn’t there when you got injected…” The little boy said, struggling the word.

“She wasn’t… But I had your daddy to hold my hand (again, a gross overstatement a retelling of the truth), so it was okay. You’ve got all of us, Kenny. There’s your mommy, Ellie, even Jax and Tara, and me. Do you think it would be okay for Doctor Tara to do the injection, if we’re all here to kiss it better when it’s done?”

The boy thought about it, then nodded.

“How did you know?” Jax whispered in Tara’s ear, making her shiver.

“I could tell he received treatment, and I can tell he’d do anything for his grandkid, so I took a risk…”

Very carefully, and cautiously, Tara gave Kenny his injection, praising for being so brave when the needle cut in his flesh. She knew it was too small a needle to really hurt, but Kenny was a kid, and nobody could tell him what he was allowed to feel or not. When the injection was done, she put a Band-Aid on it, and they all took turn kissing it better. By the time they were done, the boy was falling asleep, both from exhaustion, and from the medicine.

Tara and Jax left the room, letting the Winstons have a moment.

They stayed in the corridor, not wanting to go back to the aping crowd, staring at them like they were animals in a zoo.

“I’m surprised Alvarez is letting you operate on his kid knowing your ties to us.”

“Those ties ended a very long time ago,” she said, leaning against the wall. “Besides, he knew that I’m his son’s best shot.”

“Such a cocky little thing…”

“I didn’t leave to become a mediocre surgeon, Jax. I left to become great, if not the best. I wouldn’t have left for anything less than that…”

She wished she hadn’t brought back up their history again, but she had.

“And now you’re back…” He said, coming closer to her, yet not touching her…

***

And that was all she remembered. Oh Hell. She slowly turned around the bed, thinking that if she had been with Jax, they would have been cuddling, right? When she saw Donna asleep next to her, she felt relieved. Her eyes had gotten use to the darkness, and she could see Ellie and Kenny sleeping on another bed next to them. The boy looked like he was finally getting better. It would take time, for sure, but sleeping always helped.

Watching Kenny made her think of her patient, and of all that was at stake, for his family, and selfishly, for her. She knew she was good. Hell, she was great… But Charming was so toxic… What if it impaired her in a way? She didn’t want to die. She still had much to learn. She still had much to live…

She sat up in the bed, feeling like she needed to get out and get somewhere, but unable to say where.

“On the left, two rooms away from ours,” she heard Donna whisper next to her.

It made so much sense, Tara gave her a quick peck on the lips before leaving the bed as silently as she could. She was deeply aware of the fact that she was only wearing panties and a t-shirt, but it was too dark for her to find the rest of her clothes (or wonder about who had gotten her undressed).

She opened the door, exited, then closed it silently again, before going back to the door she had been indicated. She knocked, checking left and right if anybody was coming, but this part of the compound seemed asleep.

It took a couple of minutes, but the door finally opened, revealing Jax, wearing nothing but a sheet around his waist.

“Tara..” He said.

She shushed him by putting her hand on his mouth.

“Are you alone?” She asked, dreading the answer.

“Of course. Don’t you know I was waiting for you?”

And he kissed her. They made their way inside his room, the sheet he was wearing falling off after he closed the door with a kick.

If she was to die tomorrow, she didn’t want regret. She wanted to be here, needed to be here.

His mouth on her chest made all those thoughts disappear, and in a way, she felt like she was finally coming home.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and the kudos. I am dying to know what you guys are thinking!

"Where do you think you're going?" She heard Jax say before he kissed her shoulder, his arms going around her waist to bring her back in bed.

"Back to my motel...." She said, kissing his lips, before removing his arms gently.

He was not deterred of course, and proceeded to kiss her back. She really needed to find her t-shirt or something was going to happen that would involve sweat and sighs and grunts...

She spotted the garment on the floor and dove for it, with a victory expletive.

"Come on babe, it's obscenely early, come back to bed!" Jax said, and she smiled.

His hair was disheveled, and he had that sleepy look in his eye that made her want to be the little spoon. She pushed a few strands of hair out of his face, and kissed his lips quickly, not letting it linger any longer.

"If I come back to bed, obscene things will happen," she said, with a wink at his crotch hidden the cover yet visible.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he replied, with this drawl that tended to go straight to her hum.. let's say lower belly.

"It is a bad thing."

"First time anybody said that about my cock," he joked.

"I don't think you've been paying enough attention to what people are saying then," she joked.

He let out an outraged gasp.

She had found her panties earlier, and managed to put on her t-shirt. He laid back in his bed, making sure the cover was slipping, and she was tempted, for sure, but she had other things on her mind.

"I need to get some actual sleep, and not get woken up every so often for another round of fucking..." She said.

"You got a mouth on you! We didn't fuck..."

"Then what would you call it?" She asked, winking again, and thinking that she needed to stop with that as it only made him look more interested in sweat and more dirty stuff. "I mean, I'm a doctor, and what we did..."

"We rekindled our love affair," He said, proudly.

She looked at him then shrugged.

"Whatever you say, babe. Though I'm shocked to hear you don’t use the word fuck anymore..."

"I do use that word, just not for us. I fuck croweaters. I make love to you."

"You're sounding like a pussy," she said, blushing, not finding a good retort as she was too flushed.

"Talking about pussy..." He said, his hand going for her thigh.

"No!" She told him firmly, her finger up as if to chastise a child. "I told you, no rekindling our love affair or whatever you want to call it..."

She didn't say "for today", though it was on the tip of her tongue: every bone in her body was yelling at her, telling her she needed him, but her brain, that she took such pride in told her that relapsing was okay, but only if it happened only once. More meant you were back to being an addict. She couldn't let that happen. She was an adrenaline junkie, and got her fix through surgeries. Speaking of...

"Do you know where my pants are?"

"Probably in Donna's room. Come on, you can sleep here..."

"I can’t..." She said with a smile. “We both know it. I’m going back to the motel.”

“If you must,” he said, defeated.

She came back to the bed, to give him a kiss. If her brain whispered ‘one last kiss’ she pretended she wasn’t hearing it, not right then.

“Thanks,” she told him when they parted and they stayed close, foreheads touching.

“Now you’re making me feel cheap… Like I’m 555- call Jax for a good time…”

She snorted and pushed him away.

She made her way to the door and spared one last look to the piece of man beckoning her back to bed even when he wasn’t speaking.

“If I stay, I’ll end up with aches in weird places, and it may impair my medical abilities,” she said to herself.

But of course he heard.

“Is that possible?” He asked.

“You’d be surprised…”

“How do you know about that?” He asked. “ I mean about those positions and aches and unfitness to practice medicine?”

God bless him, he was jealous.

“That’s for me to know and for you to rack your brain about, wondering how I do know,” She said.

She wasn’t about to tell him she had had to take over one of her friend’s surgery because he had knocked out his shoulder playing it a bit too rough with his girlfriend. Jax could think of it for a while, and then forget about it.

She opened the door, and went running to Donna’s room.

It was empty when she got there, and she finally got a glimpse of the clock, telling her it was past 9AM.

She grabbed the rest of her stuff, and made her way back to the main room.

She didn’t want to sound paranoid, but it felt like more people than usual had lingered in the main area, just to catch a glimpse of her exiting.

“Doing the walk of shame?” She heard Gemma snort on the side.

“I’m walking, Gemma, but there’s no shame. If I walk a bit funny, then ask your son to tell you what we did, and you’ll probably understand very quickly where the funny step would be coming from,” She said, without a second thought.

She didn’t wait for an answer, and left. In the parking space, she saw Piney exit out of his car. She stopped, as he made his way to her.

“I dropped Donna and the kids at the house,” he said, in lieu of greetings.

“How was Kenny?” She asked.

“Much better, thank you for that.”

“No problem….”

“No, really, Tara. Thank you,” he said again, and she could tell he meant about something more.

“I hadn’t realized Donna didn’t want to be there,” he finally said, almost blushing as he looked away. “I just assumed…”

“It’s okay Piney, you don’t have to explain anything to me… Besides, we both know that what Gemma wants, she gets, whether people are okay with it or not… She thought Donna needed to be with family, and I think she was right, but as in actual family. And by that I mean you…”

“I’m not sure Donna wants me around, with Opie being away for the club…”

“It’s precisely because of that, that Donna needs you around. She’s an orphan, and she had nobody left here. All she had was Opie, and the club took him from her. Be there. Not as a club member, but as her pop in law. It will mean a lot to her.”

“I’ll listen to you,” he said, looking away with pride.

She knew it must be hard for him to hear that his being a son had to take the backseat if he didn’t want to alienate what was left of his family, but he listened anyway.

She gave his hand a squeeze, and got into her car, leaving the compound. She couldn’t wait to get more sleep.

****

Almost 24 hours later, Tara was getting out of the OR, with Philips, and when they were sure nobody was watching, they exchanged a high five.

The kid was well. The operation had taken longer than what they had hoped, but he was brand new, or so… They had managed to bypass the main pathology and keep the organs intact while practicing the ablation of the tumorous cists.

She should have felt elated, she thought, yet there was something, a feeling in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away. It had appeared when the surgery had begun. Before that, Alvarez had let her know he was aware of where she had spent the first half of her night, clearly threatening her, but she had told him to fuck off. She hadn’t really to be fair, she had told him about sex releasing endorphins and how important those were… She had told that her one night stand at the compound may be helping saving his son as he had made her feel so relaxed and fresh. Alvarez hadn’t liked it, but then again, from their previous interactions, he didn’t like many things especially when it came to her.

She wasn’t dying tonight, she thought, and she felt like she should have feel relief, yet there was still this feeling, weighing her down. She didn’t know what it meant had never felt it for as long as she could remember, but it was there.

Maybe it had been good she had had that feeling, for she had checked everything twice, and been extra careful. She would have been careful anyway, but she felt like this awareness she had for that weird sensation had made her extra aware to other things too. It had helped her step up her game, and though she didn’t know if it had been needed, Philips and her had made art that night.

“We need to write an article about this,” She said to her mentor.

“Dr. Tara Knowles will kick your ass at surgery and save your babies,” Philips said. “There, article written.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. They would write an article, about the method they had used, and its results, the way they had counteracted its failure, and improved it. It would be long, and Philips would get most of the credit, but she would get to put on her résumé that she had been part of that, both the surgery, and the article, and when she would need to find a position when her training was done, it would be good to have that on her cv.

She rubbed her belly. This sensation was still there, like she had had bad tacos or something, which wasn’t the case. She had had breakfast at 8PM, after sleeping the day away, happily. She had woken up feeling relaxed, just as she had told Alvarez. She didn’t want to give Jax too much credit, but what they had done had sure helped in making sure she was finally ready to sleep for good, without waking up unless the alarm forced her to.

She thought about Jax, and wondered what they were at. That had been the one thing that had been imperfect that night. When she had gotten out of her room and gone to the reception, she had seen that he had left a message, saying they needed to talk. Another person had left a note, telling to get the further away she could from Charming, and it had surprised Tara: if it had been Gemma, she would have signed her name, Gemma Teller-Morrow, as she was so proud of who she was, of her husbands and her status. Furthermore, the writing didn’t look so feminine, so she was a t a loss when it came to finding out who had left that note.

“Let’s go tell Al and his wife,” Philips said, after a few seconds.

“You go ahead. I need to take a shower, or eat something, or eat something under the shower if I can,” she said.

She felt like she had had to undermine his authority in part to make sure she stayed on the case, and she hoped that by staying behind when it came to giving the good news, she would repair some of the harm she may have done him. She just hoped the Alvarez didn’t take the fact that Philips was coming to see them alone as a sure sign their son had passed and she was running away to stay alive… Whatever she supposed. The kid was good, and fine. The Alvarez could worry for ten seconds, Philips would straighten things out right away.

They parted, Tara going for the interns’ office, perhaps for the last time. They would be staying until the next morning, but after that, the Alvarez’ usual pediatrician would take over for the aftercare. Complications usually happened very quickly, especially with young kids.

So she had one more night in Charming, and then she was out.

She frowned at her thought. She wouldn’t be ‘out’, she would be going back to where she belonged, right?

There was nobody around to say yes or no, and she was left with this feeling still in her lower torso.

She showered quickly, and was surprised, when she got out to see that the hospital administrator was waiting for her in the office part.

“Dr. Knowles,” the guy said, “I’m sorry but…”

And then it made sense, though it was no relief.

Her father was in a comatose state, and had been hospitalized. The prognosis wasn’t great.

The town should have been called anything but Charming. When it rained there, it didn’t pour, it rained shit and more shit, until you were buried under it, and you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Fuck, Dad.” She said, as she sat down.

She let the hospital administrator assure her that everything was being done to provide her father with the best care, but she wasn’t listening. She was trying to deal with the fact that even though the administrator was tiptoeing around the information, being no doctor, what he was telling was that her father was dying.

 


	8. Chapter 8

News traveled really fast in Charming, and she wondered if there was any use left for the post office and its services in the town.

The room they had put her father in, hooked up to machines, was crowded with flowers. She had had to ask for the next ones to be put elsewhere or given to anybody who cared to have them. She knew why people were sending flowers, and it had nothing to do with the Old Knowles, as they called him, though he was lying there. It was about her, and the fact that she had spent the night at the compound, not in Donna’s bedroom. People were sending flowers as they thought they were paying their respects to an Old Lady’s father.

The bouquets were from known associates of the Sons, and it made her sick. Her father was dying, but the rumor on everyone’s lips appeared to be that she had screwed Jaw the night before last. People thought she was staying, and they wanted to make sure they did everything diplomacy required to stay on the Sons’ good side.

When Opie had been sentenced to jail, Donna had received lots of food from people vaguely related to the club. She had told Tara so when she had come to visit her and her father, and had spotted the various floral arrangements everywhere.

“This town is bipolar,” Donna had said. “On the one hand, they hate the fact that they are living in a town where the Sons are the main authority, and that they have to deal with them, yet on the other hand, every time something happen Son-related, they will send out gifts and food and what’s not, seizing it as an opportunity to remind the Sons that they are here, and they love them, even when they don’t love them. Either make it known that you will not take any more of the Sons bullshit, or embrace them, but don’t do both. I should know, I’m bipolar too when it comes to the Sons,” the woman had finished, looking sad and painfully aware of her own contradictions.

“All these flowers for a fuck… I’d hate to see what they would send if there were something else, like an engagement, or a baby.”

“They’d send even more flowers, and congratulation cards and more, dreading to be invited to the wedding, yet terrified they wouldn’t get a Bristol either, meaning the Sons could be mad at them…”

“Fuck this town,” Tara had said, honestly fed up with it all.

“Amen,” Donna has answered.

That had happened hours ago. Tara looked at her watch, and wondered what she should do: the chair she was in wasn’t so comfortable, and she was tired from the surgery. Wow, that seemed like it had taken place a decade ago, she thought…

She looked at her father, at his hands on the sheet, at his face. He was showing nothing, as always. Even when drunk, he was stoic. Scary and uncontrollable when he blew a fuse, but stoic otherwise.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing here, yet at the same time, she couldn’t picture herself anywhere else. Philips had told her that he would take care of the post op care for the kid, and she was thankful for this. It was, let’s be honest, the work they usually reserved for an intern, but given the status of their patient, one of them needed to stay on top of this and she was in no shape to do so.

She thought back about what the doctor had said, about her father having been discovered at his house by the cleaning lady, already in a coma, and how after running some test, they had discovered that he had liver cancer. He apparently knew about it too, as at one point Tara had met the guy who had been his oncologist. She had blacked out when it came to what they had said, pleasantries or medical discussions. Her father was dying, had been dying for a while, and had kept mum about it. She had been in town for almost a week, and sure, she hadn’t come to visit, but truth be told, she had been waiting for him to let her know she was still welcome to his house. It was not his home, which had been her mother for him. It was not hers either, for she belonged nowhere. However, when she had left to go to college, she hadn’t only left Jax behind. She also taken her father by surprise, so certain he wouldn’t give two shits about where she was going. He had been shocked when she had told him she had arranged for a bank loan to pursue her studies without him, and had packed her tuff and left. She never knew, and still didn’t really if he had forgiven her for getting up and leaving. Hell, it hadn’t even been so spontaneous… For months, she had made things happen, she had known what she would have to do… She had gotten her loan, making sure to get it in San Francisco so that nobody in Charming would know about it. She had gotten in touch with her mother’s brother and had arranged for him to give her shelter. She had planned her exit.

Looking back, she understood why she had kept it from Jax, and how it had been at fault in their relationship becoming tense, but she wondered why she had kept her father in the dark. He was no jail guard.

She supposed this would be a conversation for another time. She got her belongings, and after threatening the intern who was in charge of watching over her father should anything happen, she went back to the motel.

She found a note, slipped under the door of her room, in Jax’s writing, saying they really needed to talk, and she knew he must have known about her father when he had left it. He wasn’t that callous.

She got in, closed the door, and went to bed.

*******

A few hours later, she came to, her back feeling weird, shivers running up and down. She was about to call the intern and check on her father when she caught the shadow of someone waiting in front of her door.

She got up, and opened as the person knocked, taking them by surprise.

“Tara…” Jax started.

She looked at him, wondering why he had decide to pop by at … 3AM if her watch wasn’t dead.

He looked so terrified of her reaction, she realized she had been scowling.

She grabbed him by the jacket and said, pulling him in the room:

“If there’s a fucking crow eater waiting on your bike, I hope you left her a sweater or something. Night is cold outside.”

“There’s no…”

“Okay,” was all she said, not letting him finish. She got back in bed, and waited for him to slip in behind her. His arms went around her waist, and she grabbed one of his hands, holding it in hers against her chest.

“Thanks for coming,” She told him. “You didn’t have too.”

He kissed her neck but didn’t try for anything less chaste than that.

“Of course I had to. I wanted to,” He said.

It made her feel uneasy. They were supposed to have had that one night, when it was just about the two of them and fuck the world. Yet, she found herself relying on him, and it would hurt even more when she would leave. She wondered if he thought something had made her change her made as far as that was concerned.

“You wanted to talk,” She said.

“I guess so. I think I just didn’t want you to leave without having the chance to say goodbye,” He said.

She turned to catch a glimpse of his face, and he was smiling, though resigned, and sad.

“I know you’re leaving. I’m good in bed but your will is too strong for us making love to change your mind. You left me once when it must have been the most difficult thing you had ever done, when you were just a babe, my babe… The Tara from today would leave again, being less scared.”

“This Tara is leaving indeed, or should have been… I’m waiting…”

“For your pop to give up,” he said. “And then you’re gone.”

“I am.”

He held her closer, and said, his nose in her neck:

“I know it’s selfish and just jerk like of me, but I’m glad you’re staying, even if it’s one more day. Just don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

She felt tears in her eyes, and refused to shed them, so she closed her eyes, nodded, then let the warm embrace she was in lull her to sleep.

*****

When she woke up again, a couple of hours later, he was watching her, not having gotten any sleep. He didn’t even pretend to look away, just kept his loving gaze on her.

She would be leaving so soon….

Against her better judgment, she said:

“I don’t have time for guys who fuck around. I don’t have time, for guys who think that their bike buddies and their mommies are more important than the family we may be having. I love you Jax, but I can’t stay, and I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“Why not?” He asked.

She sat down in bed, rubbing her eyes, avoiding his eyes.

“Do you remember my paranoia when we were together? When you entered the club. I can’t go through that anymore. I need a man in my life... No, scratch that, I don’t need a man in my life. However, if I chose to share my life with a guy, I would want him to be faithful. Why do you think I insisted on condoms when we last screwed? I don’t know where you’ve been, and I hate that. I know you didn’t wait for me. I didn’t wait for you either. However, I do not know if I could believe you’d be satisfied with me, and only me. If I asked you to come, you would need to know what it would mean to be with me. I work insane hours, and I don’t have time to worry about who my man is screwing. I need stability, and not some hazardous variable. If you agreed to come with me, you would be agreeing to leave behind the club, and the lifestyle. You would have to agree to have one girl only in your bed, and that girl would be me. It sounds so daunting… But it’s the truth… If I want to become who I have the potential to become, I don’t have time for taking chances on men who are boys when it comes to girl. I’d rather be alone than waste my time and drive myself crazy with a guy I couldn’t trust. I would need someone who would understand how important my job is to me, how much I sacrificed for it. I would need someone who would stand by my side, through hell and heaven, and just… be there.”

“You need a husband, or nobody”, he said, looking even.

“I guess so. Fuck, this is not the conversation I wanted to have at 6AM today…”

She got up, and started getting ready for the day. She heard him move too, and he was ready to leave when she was.

“Tara,” He said again, before he kissed her goodbye, “I heard what you said, about what you need. I don’t know if I can promise any of it though, but I heard it.”

“Then you know why I can’t ask you to be with me.”

He didn’t answer, only gently kissed her, lovingly, sweetly, patiently, and it made her want to weep that he couldn’t commit to what she needed.

They broke apart and they stayed in each other’s arms just a bit longer.

Then they parted ways, and she got back to her car, to go stand vigil by her father.

******

She remained by her father’s bed for five days. The Mayan didn’t send them flowers, but instead arranged things so that her father would be moved to a bigger room, one where she could stay, day and night. She had cried when Philips had told her about that gesture, and cried too when he had said goodbye.

“I’ll see you soon in Chicago,” he told her.

Which made her weep more. She didn’t want to be free of Charming, as it would mean her father had passed. It would mean she had left again. She knew she would have to do it, but she just didn’t have the strength… And Chicago was worlds away…

It was the exhaustion talking, ore more accurately, weeping, of course. She let him go, and went back to her chair.

Five days. Five excruciating days. The doctor would pop by at regular interval, and the nurses had arranged for her to have a bed on the side. She was kept up all night by the regular sound of her father’s monitors, hating the noise but dreading its interruption, feeling torn apart.

She had made one last trip to the motel and had checked out. It had seemed like the most sensible thing to do. She was spending all her time with her father anyway, alone.

On the third day, she had been dozing off by her father’s bedside when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

It had been Gemma. Tara had prepared herself for a fight.

The Old Lady walked to the end of her father’s bed, and said:

“You got rid of all the flowers?”

Tara wondered how Gemma had known about that…

“I went by, on morning, you weren’t there, and there were flowers everywhere, from people my husband and my son work with,” Gemma said, not looking at her.

“Fucking nosy Charming,” Tara had said. “When they changed his room, I asked for them to discard the flowers. We didn’t need them. Just because people heard something didn’t mean they had the right to intrude on my father’s privacy.”

Gemma nodded, and came to give her father a kiss on the forehead, and squeeze his hand.

“I know what it’s like, what you’re going through.” Gemma finally said.

“JT…” Tara had said, and Gemma had nodded.

He had needed three days to be ready to let go of life. Her father was still hanging on, but she didn’t know if he would for long, or how much she could take.

“Jax told me you’re leaving Charming after ….” Gemma said.

Tara had sighed.

“For fuck’s sake, Gemma, get the hell out of here. I knew you couldn’t have come just to pay your respect to my father. You had to be searching for something. Do you want me to tell you your son was right? He was right. I’m leaving Charming. You will get what you want. Just let me be with my father without tainting my last moments with him.”

The Old Lady seemed ready to pick up a fight, but Tara must have looked on her last nerve, for Gemma nodded, and said:

“Fair enough. I can wait another couple of days.”

And then she was gone, and Tara found herself weeping some more. Fucking Gemma. Even in her time of need, she couldn’t find it in her body to be decent, and just normal? Her father… Her poor father…

She fell asleep, exhausted from the tears. She had never cried so much in her adult life, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She hated it.

In the middle of the fifth night, she was woken up by a voice.

It took her a couple of seconds then she realized it was her father asking for something to drink.

The emotions she felt… There were too many and she just wasn’t able to process them all. She ran in the corridor and got him some icy water.

She came back, and helped him drink some. She couldn’t believe his eyes were open. She couldn’t believe he was seeing her. She wondered if she was dreaming.

“I’m not going to lie to you, kid,” he said when he was finished drinking and she helped him lie back in bed, “this is the end.”

“I know.” She said simply.

“I hate that I woke up, it means that I will feel it, when I’m toast…”

“You can slip back into a coma….” She said. “Sometimes people wake up for a couple of hours, and then they go back to being comatose….”

“Something to look forward then…” He said.

She didn’t know what to say, and those goddamn tears were coming back again…

“I’m sorry I was such a crap dad.”

“You weren’t,” she said.

“Don’t lie to your dying father,” he said, with a slight smile on his lips. “I was shite.”

“You were shite,” she agreed.

“But you’re not. You’re big. I know it, your uncle told me all about your career.”

“I wanted to call you so badly, and tell you where I was at but…”

“You were worried I would be starting my second bottle of vodka and wouldn’t give a shit…”

“No. Yes, but no, not only. I wasn’t sure you would want to hear from me.”

“You’re my kid. Of course I would want to know. But I was such crap dad, I didn’t manage to let you know,” He said, breathing heavily.

“I was worried you hated me for leaving.”

“You never made me so proud than the day you did. You were so much like your mother… I love you kid…”

Tara started crying, knowing he wouldn’t be saying those words if the end wasn’t so near.

“Just do me a favor, baby girl, and don’t come back. After I’m gone, after I’m finally reunited with your mother, just stay away from Charming.”

She had never known her father believed in the afterlife, and it was like balm on her soul. She didn’t believe in it, but if as he lay dying, he was able to find comfort in the thought that he was getting closer to seeing his wife again, then it meant the world. She didn’t want him to be scared. She didn’t want him to worry. She didn’t even care about the fact that he had kept his cancer a secret, come to think of it. She just wanted him happy, something he had never been once they had put her mother in the ground.

‘Will you tell her I miss her every day?” She asked, surprised by the words she was saying.

“I will. But promise me, Tara…”

It felt like she was being torn apart, like she was breaking inside, hearing her father say her name for the first time in …. Too long.

“I promise. I was going to leave anyway. I’ve got nothing left for me here…”

“That kid, that Son I should say…”

“Knows where I’m at. Wait…” She asked, remembering the message she had gotten at the motel and which hadn’t made sense. “You tried to reach me?”

He chuckled sadly.

“My last attempt at being a father. I heard about you and the boy, from one of my boozing buddies. I wanted to … I dunno. Tell you that this life here, in Charming, is poisonous maybe… I just felt like I needed to make sure you would not stay. You deserve more. You always did.”

“Thank you daddy,” she said, barely recognizing the word, for she hadn’t spoken it in a long time.

They held hands, for a long time, until she felt him leave his corporal shell. It broke her heart, but she didn’t let go, he wasn’t in any pain, and for once he wasn’t alone, even though he was leaving her so.

When his heart stop beating, the medical staff came barging in, but she reminded them of her father’s DNR, still holding his hand, unwilling to let go.

It was too hard, it just was too hard.

She cried with her head on their linked hands, and the medical staff left the room, as she heaved and wept for her father.

Hours later, she felt someone touch her shoulder, and heard Jax’s voice in her ear, saying that he had her, and just this once, she allowed herself to believe him. With a last kiss on her father’s cold forehead, she finally let go of his hand, and of this life.

*****

The burial was a simple affair. It took place two days after her father had been reunited with her mother, or so she hoped.

Jax had stayed by her side. They had taken a room in another hotel, as she didn’t want to stay in her father’s house, and he didn’t want to bring her back to the compound. He was there when she had to take care of the details, all these painful details. He went back with her to that house, to find the clothes her father would be buried in.

She allowed herself one visit to what had been her bedroom, and would have cried upon seeing that he hadn’t touched it even after she left, had she still be able to cry.

She felt dry and had no more tears to cry, though her heart was so heavy.

Donna had called, offering to come to the funeral, but Tara had told her to stay with her kids.

The priest made a eulogy, and her father was lowered into the ground. Jax’s hands was in hers, at all time, and she was reminded of a similar situation, except it had been his father and they had been much younger.

There were a couple of people in attendance, including Piney, who had brought flowers in his and Donna’s names. She had thanked him.

He was there, his hand in hers, her rock when she needed one. She didn’t dare hope, yet, as she remembered her flight back to Chicago was leaving in four hours, she thought she owed it to them, and asked him:

“Will you leave Charming and be with me?”

And he answered.

 

 

 

THE END

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I left the ending open, so that people who want a happy ending can have it, and those who thought otherwise can too. I know which ending they got for me in this story, though I sometimes change my mind, now it's up to you to decide!  
> Thank you once again for your support.


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